


Misdirection

by DickBaggins



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dirty Talk, Fear, Fear Play, Incest, Knifeplay, M/M, dubcon roleplay, fear kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-23
Updated: 2015-03-23
Packaged: 2018-03-19 05:18:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3597804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DickBaggins/pseuds/DickBaggins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean indulges Sam's fear kink with some minor deception and a few props.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Misdirection

Sam’s got his arms full, jostling a greasy fast food bag and a six pack and two bottles of whiskey stuffed into a brown bag because there was a sale and he kind of wanted to surprise Dean. Even though Dean was the one who sent him out at midnight for burgers and beer while he lounged around lazy and half-naked and barely awake. So Sam  _would_  knock, or at least bash the door with his foot, ordinarily, but, it’ll be sweeter this way, even if he’s got to clutch the fast food bag between his teeth to open up.

He drops it as soon as the door opens and something flutters towards him, something all swirling colours and billowy orange-red hair and his jaw slacks, the bag tumbles to the ground and the six-pack does too, while he dives for his gun immediately. Heart racing, body tense, gun poking at the…clown costume? Empty fluttery plastic smock with a wig tacked on, already laying limp on the floor.

Sam frowns, toes curiously at it and looks around wide-eyed. “Dean? Dean!”

No Dean.

Not in front of Sam, at least; an arm suddenly tightens around his waist and something flashes cold and dangerous against his throat and he  _knows_  it’s Dean, has to be, but he still hisses in a breath, his stomach dropping out.

“Misdirection,” Dean mutters, breath hot against Sam’s neck, his entire body pressing up against Sam’s back and shoving, herding him in the door. “Didn’t think it would work. Lose the gun, boy.”

Sam nods once, holding his arm up, placidly opening his hand while Dean snaps the gun away, still pushing at him until Sam’s thighs hit the table. He puts the paper bag of whiskey down with a shaking hand, his other still held up, shaking too. Shaking everywhere, adrenalin spiking down  because okay, it’s just  _Dean_  but it’s scary Dean, Dean with an obvious plan from the second he sent Sam out.

It might be a little sweet if there wasn’t a knife pressed against Sam’s throat and Dean growling against the back of his neck, no words, just deep monster snarls and the scrape of his teeth. Sam shivers, goosebumps pricking up everywhere, his dick twitching in his jeans which makes him realize – shit – he’s already more than halfway hard, and he didn’t even feel it happening.

“Boy brought me some treats, huh?” Dean mutters against his skin, arm looping around Sam’s waist again, his palm flattening on his stomach and pressing so Sam has to grind back against him. “What did you bring me?”

“Burgers,” Sam shudders out, breathing hard and heavy. “A-and whiskey, there was a s-”

“Not what I meant,” Dean growls, grabbing for Sam’s belt, undoing it unnervingly fast and diving for his fly. “Bend over.”

Sam complies quick, flattening down against the table, swallowing hard against the blade still pressing against his skin. Dean tugs his pants down, underwear with them, starts rubbing against his ass with his denim covered crotch and Sam sucks in a surprised breath; Dean’s hard already too, thick and rough and terrifyingly huge.

“This is what I meant,” Dean gropes his ass one handed, his index finger teasing dry around Sam’s hole, and Sam whines, tries to choke out something, a protest or a plea or  _something_ , he doesn’t even know. “Hmm, nice and tight for me, boy. Nice and scared. You scared?”

Sam just shudders, manages a quick, careful nod, his face still pressed against the table so he can’t even see, but he hears Dean’s fly zip down, a slow teasing threat that races his pulse and squeezes his breath out hard and fast.

“Don’t worry,” Dean growls again, bending over Sam, teeth scraping at his neck, sinking in for a too-gentle nip that has Sam gasping. “I’ll go slow.


End file.
